Do you want to live forever?
by aurlyza
Summary: Some love stories are meant to last till the end of time. Draco/Harry in a oneshot Creature fic.


**Pairing:** Draco/Harry **Rating:** M **Genre:** Romance **Warning:** A bit of blood without the gore **Dire Warning:** Not beta-ed^^ **Disclaimer:** I don't own the boys. Sigh! _

**Storyline**  
Some love stories are meant to last till the end of time.

* * *

**~Do you want to live forever? ~**

* * *

_**There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness… Friedrich Nietzsche**_

Tranquility etched everywhere inside the rustic yet scenic castle. Even the unpolished marble of the floor, wearing the hue of russet looked inviting. As the three stately figures stepped over the threshold, the sounds of their footsteps echoed against the lily-washed brick walls, awakening the omnipresent calmness.

"Oh don't close the door just yet, dear," the pretty woman, elegantly clothed in a royal-blue dress robes of the finest silk material, eyes glinting the palest shade of blue, told the youngest when she saw him about to do just that. "Let the cool night air linger in for a bit."

The young man turned the eldest among them a questioning gaze and the other man in question simply nodded in acquiesce.

"As you wish, Mother," the son replied and then his eyes narrowed when he noticed bright, crimson blotches on three of the numerous ancient frames hanging up high on the wall, alongside the tall, dwindling staircase at the furthest end of the ground floor.

"Be careful!" the mother exclaimed, smiling when her precious son snarled out a colourful expletive after he tripped on the stone steps albeit being too excited to quench his curiosity. "This place is exquisite… Just need a bit of fresh, modern touch here and there…" she hummed to herself as she set to task inspecting the heavyset dusty curtains that were dressing the tall windows.

"Son, these are our ancestors," the father said as he bounded up the stairs to join his son.

"Wicked," the son muttered, morbidly fascinated when he discovered that it was blood, real blood that had been used to ink each of the palm imprint at the bottom of each oil painting, like a proud brand of signature. "What's the history behind these men, Father, why… MOTHER!"

His piercing scream could do nothing to save her as she had already fallen, hit squarely in the bosom by a shot of bright green jet that emitted from one of the wands belonging to the unlawful intruders whom had burst into their ancestors' domain uninvited.

And if the mere sight wasn't painful enough already, they torched her lifeless body aflame when they rushed past her.

"Avada Kedavra!" The father dodged but even he wasn't fast enough to block another oncoming, no less deadly one, coming from two wands simultaneously. "Sectumsempra!"

"Father!"

The double curses hit him dead centre in the chest, just like the killing curse had done to his wife. Blood spurted out in rivulets as the dark curse, hurled intentionally by the casters, sliced deep, too deep through the topmost layer of his skin, adamantly clawing its vicious way to get to his heart.

"Protego!"

Yet even though fatally wounded, the father raised his wand, in a futile attempt to parry further raining curses.

"Protego horribilis!"

A translucent silver light, like a force-field emerged at the landing and singed one of the men to ashes.

With great difficulty, he grabbed his shell-shocked son, fully knowing that it was only a matter of time before the highly skilled assailants would gain in on them. Had they both been on the other flight of stairs, the one that was magnificently laden with thick Peruvian carpet, they could have just taken flight from one of the rooms in the first landing.

"Ascendio!" the father whispered hoarsely.

The spell was meant for them to thread the stairs easily but when they were on the last few steps, a wayward curse soared past and grazed the son's ear thus bringing him out of his petrified, mindless stance.

The protective shield was weakening.

Quickly, with a burst of agility that had surprised even him himself, the son heaved his breathless father onto his back and once his feet touched base at the uppermost landing, he waved his wand blindly without even looking back.

"CONFRINGO!" the son bellowed.

A strange sort of light dawned within the grey depth of the father's astounded eyes when he saw the stone steps effortlessly crumbled like stale breadcrumbs behind them. In light of the dire situation, it seemed bizarrely odd that the elder took time to peruse the expensive time-piece on his wrist.

"You can run but you can't hide!" Malicious cackles exploded from below.

"Quick into the tower," the father mumbled as his son sped through a long, dim passage lighted only by torches on its red brick walls. The son did a leaping run to close the remaining distance and hurtled through the unlocked tower door.

"Colloportus!"

The force coming from their two wands belted the door shut with a loud squelch. Another flight of resilient looking wrought-iron spiraling stairs, holding little steps by the thousands, lay ahead of them and this time it was the son who brandished his wand high up above his sweat drenched head, his pale face contorted with grim determination as he shouted out "ASCENDIO!" and within seconds their feet crested on top of the solace tower.

The son tasked his wand another time, slashing the invisible air in an anti-clockwise motion and another blood-curdling yell resounded from the depth of his throat. "DISSENDIUM!"

A screeching sound promptly exploded, it was pitched so horribly high, of iron grating on iron and began to reverberate throughout the entirety of the tower and possibly the whole ancient castle but the terrible ordeal of sound infestation lasted all but a few long blinks.

Where used to be the staircase was now but a void as clumps of the severed irons laid useless at the foot of the tower.

"Father, I can't seem to Apparate us out of here…" the son murmured helplessly.

"There's no way in or out by Apparation or even Portkey within the grounds of this castle," his father told him miserably. "Wait a moment… just wait, my son."

The son looked about to snap and then suddenly gave out a shout of triumph, when a window holding no bars or glass-panes, appeared to have materialised out of thin air, strategically perched next to them.

A shaft of light broke in from the outside world and the full moon was beaming merrily against the night canvas. Even higher, much, much higher than the other minion stars littering under the skies, a majestic, lone star hung brilliantly, robbing the moon which was light years beneath it, of all its shining glory.

_Draconian…._ The father revered silently.

"Heaven is with us tonight, Father."

The elder gently tapped his son on his shoulder. "You have to let me go and save yourself, my time is drawing near, my son," he breathed, with a rueful, painful smile, his gaze keenly glued to the illuminating star. "Those men will hunt us down till the ends of the earth."

As if on cue, maniacal war cries echoed from the void beneath.

"No, I don't want to lose you too…" the son lowered himself onto the floor in order to gently slide his father off him, against the circular wall. Then even more gently, his arms wound around the elder like a shield, sheathed in a close embrace, the front of his shirt soon drenched with his father's blood as was his blood-soaked back.

"Bear with it, Father," he sobbed as he muttered all the charms he knew to stem the horrific bleeding, inwardly cursing his limited knowledge of even the simplest of healing before carefully gathering the elder into his arms and rose again. "We'll survive this," he promised in earnest, one foot already slung across the low window sill. "We'll survive this together, Father."

"No, you'll survive this, for me, for Mother," the father muttered in a barely heard voice, the light from his eyes was fast dimming. "Blood of my blood…"

* * *

~DH~

* * *

At the lounging room of St. Mungos' intensive ward, sombre looking Aurors were pacing the floor endlessly. Even Ron and Neville were not allowed entry upon the strict order of the Head Healer who was attending to the patient inside.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I don't even know what the curse is meant to do," Hermione began hesitantly. "It's nothing like I'd ever seen before..."

Harry shut his eyes, willing the tears that had threatened to gather and fall. If death was so adamant to claim his soul so let it be then. Every living thing was meant to pass, there was no such thing as forever in the dictionary of human lives.

It was an odd time to think, or rather, see a face he hadn't expected to see flashing through the eyes of his mind.

"Harry, I'm so sorry, oh please don't cry…" The bed creaked when Hermione sat herself next to his pillowed head, raining teary kisses all over his tear-soaked face. "Ron and I will always be here for you."

Harry wasn't even aware the dam that was holding fort to guard his tears had already broken.

And quietly he uttered a last desperate wish to the heavens.

* * *

~DH~

* * *

Draco's crawl-like pace turned to a standstill the moment Number Twelve Grimmauld Place narrowed into vision. Nervous, he puzzled briefly; he hadn't had that kind of unmanly nervous attacks ever since forever.

The determining factor of his heart palpating like as though it would explode and crumble was of course the one residing in that house standing before him.

It was amazing, annoyingly amazing that he hadn't even seen that face up close and personal for over a decade and yet that person still had that annoying effect on him, he grumbled silently as he resumed his stride, briskly this time just to squash that annoying nervousness away.

All too soon he was already thumbing the doorbell and incurable vanity immediately took precedent as he fussed over his hair, he even had time to admire his newly bought Muggle designer suit. His sharp ears picked the light footsteps in no time and that put a stop to his shameless preening.

"Malfoy?"

The man standing before him was a far cry from the scrawny teenager he remembered. The absence of those abominable glasses really had made a difference.

"Hello, Potter," Draco smiled, hand outstretched. Bad manners and name callings were after all unattractive traits of the yesteryears. "The years have been kind on you I see."

Harry's mouth quivered up at both corners as he firmly grasped the proffered hand. "What brings you here, Malfoy?"

Draco's smile faltered. Harry's palm felt like ice in his grasp.

"Can I have my hand back, Malfoy?"

"I apologise, Potter," Draco mumbled sheepishly, dropping his hand slowly. "Aren't you going to invite me in then?"

"Merlin, Malfoy, I don't remember you being so courteous, come on in," Harry said, bemused as he led Draco through the hallway and deposited him right on the sofa. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Firewhisky? Or maybe you'd like to join me for some wine?"

"Wine please if you don't mind."

Draco kept his gaze fastened onto Harry as the famous Head Auror effortlessly worked his wand in a few twirls to bring the tall bottle of wine and crystal glasses from the liquor cabinet. With the grace of an aristocrat, Harry served him with a ready smile, the same welcoming smile he received at the door.

"So, why are you actually here, Malfoy?"

Draco sighed, once a Gryffindor always a Gryffindor, always straight to the point as usual despite his ultra-civil politeness. "No reason at all," he shrugged, sipping the red liquid slowly, quietly appreciating Harry's exquisite taste in wine. "Or maybe I haven't really thanked you properly for saving my worthless life and for your grace of making me walk a free man all those years back, _Harry_."

Oh, what a comedown, even though Harry's eyes had visibly flickered at the usage of his first name, that didn't stop the spirited man from responding immediately.

"I did what I needed to do, _Draco_…" Harry said, eyes delving deep into Draco's, non-too subtly emphasising his name when he rolled it out from his sensuous mouth. "Then again if you wish to thank me I've got no objections."

It was impossible to stare back into those hypnotising eyes and yet not feel anything. A familiar feeling, one that he had resolutely detached himself from, came running across his chest and just as obstinately anchored its mark there.

Harry cleared his throat.

"I thank you for saving me, Harry," Draco said humbly, reaching for infallible humour to simmer down the silly fluttering in his chest by fluttering his dark blond lashes at the ultra-attractive man next to him. "Say something."

Harry merely smiled.

Oh, okay then, that was fine too, nice smile anyway.

"So what happened to you," Draco asked conversationally, just as if those explosive spats between them in their Hogwarts years hadn't taken place at all. "You look all rosy to me but the cold leaching from you is hardly natural."

"I'm still recuperating, got cursed on my last mission," Harry replied, in a tone that suggested he was announcing his wedding day, looking all bright and shiny. "Hermione suggested it could be fatal and yet I'm still here."

Sheer exasperation nearly made Draco fall back into the rules of old habits that dictated he should sneer, as sneering was the only safe language he knew on how to lavish his hidden concern for this very stubborn Gryffindor who thought of nothing about the state of any peril he was in.

Harry Potter was the classic example of a living martyr, always so damn giving about everything.

Pfttt… how infuriatingly annoying.

"You never change do you, Harry," he sighed instead.

"I am what I am, Draco," Harry shrugged. "So where have you been all these time?"

The man sure knew how to get down to business without breaking a beat. Let's see how long he could keep up with his brisk professional facade.

"I've been travelling around the globe," Draco replied, muttering his thanks when Harry refilled his glass. "Too much inheritance ever since my parents died ten years ago."

Harry's bright green eyes grew even greener as they widened. "Lucius and Narcissa are dead?!"

Bingo, score one.

"How?" Harry demanded, discarding all previous niceties. "Tell me, please."

"They died the same night of our trial," Draco answered slowly, silently reveling the way Harry's eyes were emitting soft, green fire at him, even when his brains was busy thinking ways to avoid retelling that most painful episode of his life now than he had gotten a reaction of sorts out of Harry. "On hindsight, we should have just stayed put here in England rather than cater to our wishful needs to rebuild our lives in Father's long forgotten ancestors' home in France…"

"Wait a second, that trial was the day you turned eighteen," Harry interjected, horrified. "They died on your birthday? Fuck, Draco, that's tragic!"

Score two, just the silver lining he was hoping for.

"I'm flattered you keep tabs on my birthday, Harry," Draco said, with a hint of tease. "Come to think about it, how did you know when is my birthday in the first place?"

"It's no big deal," Harry muttered, looking flustered as he gulped his wine, his eyes meeting Draco's briefly. "Remember in our fifth year when we couldn't take our Apparation test because we haven't turned sixteen yet?"

"I only indulged Slughorn," Draco said, after making sure his memory had served him right. "So you were eavesdropping on us."

"I was right behind you, it's hard not to hear," Harry defended.

"But you remembered it."

Harry's forehead puckered slightly. "So?"

"Do I detect some schoolboy crush going on whilst our intense juvenile rivalry was going on perhaps?" Draco said seriously.

Harry tossed him a look that suggested Draco had his intelligence tested.

"What?" Draco wriggled his brows suggestively. "Rivals cannot become lovers?"

"You're trying to crawl your way out into telling me what happened to your parents' aren't you?" Harry exclaimed, looking amused rather than annoyed. "I can't believe I fell for that!"

Draco chuckled. It was a very big deal that Harry didn't deny it head on. It was high time to put an end to this pointless interrogation.

"So tell me."

"My mother was murdered and my father died simply to save me."

Colour fled Harry's face. "Murdered?" he repeated whisperingly. "How?"

"Give it a rest will you, please."

Harry appeared not to hear him. "Why didn't you come back immediately?" he demanded.

"I was in the mind that no one would care whether I was dead or alive," Draco glowered effectively back. "You certainly didn't go all out to look for me did you?"

"Draco… I… oh, come on…."

"Be honest," Draco continued tersely. "If I hadn't popped here tonight, you probably wouldn't care if you never get to see my face ever again."

Maintaining a hardened expression was too easy, especially when Harry shifted guilty in his seat, avoiding his eyes. Yet it agonised him to see Harry's woolen clad chest heaving up and down heavily, breathing seemed to summon the very pit of his energy.

It struck him then.

Draco understood pangs of overwhelming guilt.

An intense bludgeoning feeling and the power of the curse was activated through feelings. Not just a simple uncomplicated feel of mild amusement or annoyance, it was those feelings burdened with a heavy level of intensity, ones that drove deep from the heart. Too much of it would render Harry's heart into physical pain.

To be devoid of any deep emotion was to remain cold inside. Hence the bizarre state of Harry's icy skin and the rapid downing of wine to lull his misery.

The curse was no ordinary curse.

"You don't have to answer that," Draco relented softly when Harry's breaths surfaced out into loud, audible gasps. "Someday I'll tell you what happened to my parents, I promise alright?"

Harry nodded slowly in assent. Draco suspected it was the only thing he was capable of right now. Tendrils of anger seeped into his veins. This man next to him did not own a mean bone in his body and to see him tortured with a look so humiliatingly defeated was most crucifying to bear witness to.

Noticing Draco's intense stare, Harry mustered out a vibrant smile. "You're itching to ask me questions right?"

"Who was the one who cursed you?" Draco asked casually, as he took to savour his wine.

"Rodolphus Lestrange."

The sweet wine instantly tasted like bile in his throat. He thought the bastard was dead and buried with the rest of them in the terrible Fiendfyre his father unleashed on that fateful night.

"He didn't stand a chance after that," Harry added quietly when their gaze connected yet again. "Ron and Neville finished him for me."

Fuck, what a pity, how he would love to shred that bastard to pieces. Now he grasped the true definition of the beautiful dream he had a week ago, of flying beneath the star studded night firmament with Harry by his side.

The curse was meant to kill.

Jesting time was now officially over.

"I know you're silently questioning why I'm actually here, Harry," Draco said after several long seconds of impending stillness, of Harry staring and blinking uncertainly at him. "I have a confession to make."

The sense of dread expectancy soon wrote across Harry's face. "Don't, Draco, I can't deal with this…"

In a singular unbroken movement Draco had Harry captive in his arms. Caught unaware, Harry froze and courtesy from Draco's Hawthorn, less than a blink later they were lounging on Harry's bed, without any clothes on.

"You've always known this haven't you?" Draco whispered as he splayed himself over Harry, felt his own blood heating up despite the deathly coldness of Harry's naked skin beneath him. "I love you to madness, Harry."

"You are one cruel bastard," Harry spat venomously, eyes growing heavy with emotion. "You think you could just waltz into my life again and start telling me what I should have heard years ago instead of now when death is already knocking at my door and…"

"Shhh…"

Draco's mouth came bearing down onto Harry's, hard and Harry was kissing him back with a vengeance so fierce that the mere sensation breeding out of it had threatened to consume them both with a need so primal it was truly frightening, even for him.

It didn't escape his scrutiny either that Harry's skin was now tingling with warmth. Harry's breath was panning out evenly when he should be wheezing for breath right now.

.  
"Say it then," Draco whispered when the kiss broke. "Say that you love me, Harry..."

"I'm dying, Draco," Harry muttered, eyes inflicted with agonising pity intermixing with a love so deep it could very well undo every marrow of his being. "You'd be broken once I'm gone, I know you will…"

Draco hissed out a frustrated breath, this was the annoying reason why he loved Harry with everything he had in him. Even in the throngs of death, Harry was always stubbornly thinking of others' needs above his own.

It worked well in the past but not now, especially now.

"If I can't hear those words, I promise you I'd definitely break…"

"I love you, Draco, I've always loved you."

Harry's skin instantly flamed red like there was a raging inferno trapped beneath it.

And Draco was the only one who was able to see it.

And the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle finally flitted in.

His parents' fate were already doomed the moment they abandoned Voldermort during that senseless battle in Hogwarts.

He was supposed to live.

_Amare est mori…_

To love is to die…

The curse created by the evillest of all creation. It was ironic how Voldermort despised love of any form and yet he could easily recognise it. A last resort, a fail-proof ploy to employ should the monster fail to kill his most hated enemy.

To entwine Harry into a fate that was far more terrible than death itself.

"I love you more, Harry, much, much more."

He kissed Harry again, smiling into the kiss.

Wizards came of age at seventeen.

There were a selected few, very, very few others who could attain their fullest potential a year later.

By choice.

It was common knowledge that the meaning behind the name Malfoy was bad faith.

No one knew it held a hidden meaning of bad blood.

* * *

~DH~

* * *

Harry's lips went pliant against Draco's plundering mouth, his hips arched up wantonly when Draco grazed the growing hardness between their pelvises, urgent cries resounded from the base of his throat when Draco's oil slicked fingers dug deep inside his cavern, gasping when Draco lowered his mouth to trail, wet kisses and delicious hot suckles of passion all the way down to his abdomen only to blow his already leaking shaft.

"Can I have permission to make you mine, my fair warrior?" Draco teased lightly, positioning himself between Harry's flaming cheeks down there. His eyes though, told a different story, the usually icy silvers had grown so dark with unbridled passion that the orbs were almost black. "All mine?"

In response, Harry simply raised his torso and reached for the fat feathery pillows that were cushioning his head to cushion his half-sitting back instead before twining his calves around Draco's pale shoulders. "Get on with it, damn it…" Harry urged impatiently. "Just go ahead and fuck me will you…"

Draco tilted his silky head back and laughed. "Language, Harry, language," he chided with his famous patented smirk. "Nothing would make me happier than to hear you say you're mine."

Harry blinked. For a moment there he thought he saw streaks of gruesome crimson dominating the dark greys. Another blink and Draco's eyes were back to normal. He rolled his own eyes and grinned, he was dying and so his surgically corrected vision was probably messed up as well.

Merlin, while he was at it, it's really funny in a way that at this terminal stage he could still get his thing functioning, miraculously even funnier that his heart hadn't given way with all the delicious ecstasy going on, he mused silently.

"Harry, don't be mean…" Draco whined, dispersing Harry's innuendos, looking like a bratty eleven year old all over again. "Can't you flatter my ego a bit…"

Despite his building lust, Harry burst out laughing. "Fine," he announced regally, grinned when Draco pouted attractively. "I'm all yours to keep."

The playful pout turned into a wolfish grin, so leery that Harry felt his cheeks grow hot with a sudden shyness, oddly thinking on how marvellously white Draco's teeth were, like the most glorious pearls, even the paleness of his skin had a whitish, shimmery glow on it.

Completely unblemished.

"Like what you see…" Draco whispered through smoky-lidded eyes when Harry raised a hand to trace his perfect skin, his lover lavished him a sultry smile and Harry had to marvel at the acute precision of Draco's diligent fingers, expertly working on his already leaking need to ready him further. Not that he needed it, he was more than ready. "I love you, Harry… I love you so much it hurts…"

Draco entered him in a single thrust and Harry's world went into a tailspin of delirious sensations, he was groaning out Draco's name over and over again, in perfect synchronise of Draco's gasping out his name repeatedly like a chant as Draco moved in him, leisurely at first before his thrust grew faster, harder, amidst their cries of undying love for each other.

It was when his desire was almost triumphing to its pinnacle that Harry suddenly found his vision blurring and he could only see whiteness around him and he heard the tremendous drumming of his heartbeats in his ears and his chest seemed to swell with a hotness from the inside out, so hot like molten lava, so hot it could surely kill, as hot as the pleasure Draco was drilling into him, that he finally realised, the cruel finality of the horrible dark curse, on how it would claim his life.

The shattering climax he craved for with the one he truly loved would be his death toll.

No, Gods, no, he mustn't, he must hold back, he must, he must… Harry despaired as he tried to rein back his desire for the one soul he was truly willing to give life to. It wasn't even death he was afraid of, it was never that.

Draco's world would forever be shattered if he were to leave him like that.

"Draco… I need you to stop..."

The will was strong but the calling of the craving, lusty flesh was equally strong… too strong…

"Do you want to live forever?"

Somewhere in the whiteness two crimson orbs glowed eerily and the orbs were coming closer and the orbs were bringing out heart-breaking tears that felt cool like liquid elixirs to sooth his burn, he caught glimpses of his lover's beautiful pearly white teeth, only that two were deadlier longer at the sides like formidable swords.

And there was something else.

Something large, fluffy, whiter than the white mists of death that was waiting to claim him, seemed to engulf his lover.

"Gods, what have you become?"

"Does it matter, love?"

Harry gasped uncontrollably, now he was tortured to unimaginable heights between the need to either simply explode and go permanently out of breath, or to succumb to the need to walk the path of no return, when warm digits, tipped with unmistakably razor sharp talons came to mercilessly stroke his need.

"Forever with me, Harry."

Forever was a very long time but with his beloved by his side even forever wouldn't be enough to sustain him.

And he had waited forever for his love.

"Yes."

As Draco plundered in one final thrust, gathering him up in his powerful arms, Harry turned his head sideways, readily permitting the breach but there was no pain at all, adrenaline shot through his veins as Draco drank him, pleasure, he only felt hot, intense pleasure, overriding even his explosive climax.

"I love you, Harry."

It was some time later when Harry roused back to consciousness to find himself the recipient of the same crimson eyes that glowed like coals. Yet now, he could clearly identify specks of silvery greys that he loved so much dancing in the crimson pools. His lover's luminous incisors, which likened that of a sabre toothed tiger, looked beguilingly erotic.

But it was the pair of wings which seemed, no, correction, the feathery white wings were part of Draco's lithe, beautiful and majestic form that Harry had trouble tearing his gaze away from.

"It's rude to stare you know," Draco purred as he stretched like a cat got creamed. "Don't worry, love, we'll have time for some serious questions and answers session later okay."

As Harry nodded numbly, transfixed by his lover's true form, Draco raked his own wrist with his killer talon, emitting blood from the flawless skin. His lover gently placed his bloodied hand to Harry's half-parted lips.

Something strange awakened in Harry's insides, the scent of Draco's blood was overpoweringly drawing.

"Blood is my strength, don't ask how I get it, just know I've never killed anyone yet to sate my thirst," Draco whispered and Harry believed him. "Now it's your turn, Harry, make me solely yours just as I have made you solely mine."

Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath and latched into the offering and Draco began to groan louder and louder and Harry found himself growing harder and harder.

"I need you, Harry, I need you now, love…"

Blood, warm, sweet blood, his lover's blood was too damn sweet, too damn arousing to his awakened and heightened senses.

And he had never felt more alive.

* * *

~Finite~

* * *

Pssssssttttt... Do tell me what you think of this hurriedly written fic ^_^


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